Coming to Terms
by Kaci Colton
Summary: Kaito truly had no idea what he was doing here. It wasn’t like he thought about coming back, and it certainly wasn’t as if he actually planned it...


NOTHING IS MINE!

No maia and co here. Sorry!

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Kaito truly had no idea what he was doing here. It wasn't like he thought about coming back, and it certainly wasn't as if he actually planned it. He was taken from his home town at 18 and wasn't allowed to look back. That was almost four years ago, so why now? Why today of all days? Just about every other year on this day he retreated as far as possible from everything and became as intoxicated as possible with everything he could get to. He drove all over Japan to get away from here, and yet, here he was.

Another thing Kaito didn't understand is why, after all of these years, was he suddenly dreaming again? Not just any dreams, mind you, but dreams of someone he very deliberately forgot. Every smile, every laugh, ever tear shed for, about, or with this person was systematically erased from his memory. And yet, when he slept now, if he slept at all, he saw only blonde hair… and maroon eyes. He could never forget those, it seemed, nor the beat of his heart, nor would he forget the euphoric feeling he felt around him. It would have appeared that those sensations would stay with him forever.

The more he dreamt, the more real the dreams became. It wasn't long before Kaito became catatonic, lying in bed for hours for a glimpse of the blonde hair behind his eyelids. Only withdrawal ever brought him out of this state, and even then he longed for sleep, for dreams. For the dreams, it seemed, became more and more exciting, however innocent they began. It seemed as though his lover, mad with need, lurked just on the edge of his consciousness, waiting for Kaito to fall into blessed sleep when he would dominate his mind and body. Of course, the first dream had been fairly unsettling.

Kaito had been emancipated only a few short years and he was already totally independent. Not that it was much of a change from his home life, really. It wasn't like his father would have helped him anyway. He had a comforting system worked out. He drove at night to avoid traffic and pulled into rest stops or motels in the day. If he was in town then by night he'd do work for local dealers and odd jobs for petty money.

This night Kaito had gotten little sleep the day before. There was a semi next to him who's driver insisted upon blasting his music. Under normal circumstances Kaito wouldn't have minded, but this night was the two year anniversary of his departure. He was already irritated as it was, and didn't need a jack ass keeping his awake when he should be sleeping dreamlessly as per usual.

But, that was not to be, and he spent the anniversary awake and, regretfully, sober. Now he was suffering withdrawal effects and felt very jittery and slightly fatigued from the lack of sleep. He reached into his glove compartment and yanked out his emergency supply of whatever pills he found lying around. He growled as he discovered it empty and threw it at the wind shield with a curse. It looked like he used up his emergency supply and never refilled it.

He cursed again and leaned his head on the wheel for a moment. Between the quiet of the night and the gentle hum of the engine he was lulled into a jittery sleep. It was only a moment, but it was enough. He lifted his head lethargically and screamed, veering to the right, both thanking and cursing every deity that ever was or ever will be. He did swerve out of the way to avoid crashing into a concrete barrier, but he saw someone, someone he knew to be dead, standing in the middle of the road.

He knew that light in motion can catch the image of a specter for just a moment, but this wasn't a specter. The man he saw, blonde, and tall, and wonderful as ever, stood in the middle of his lane, looking out to the left. Kaito looked up in time to catch the image before it disappeared and he awoke fully.

Kaito checked the clock. It was about 5:30, and about time to stop anyway for food, so he decided to pull into a rest stop early and turn in for the day. At least there were no jack asses at this one.

It had been almost a week since his first encounter with the hallucination, and he had passed it off as just that. Kaito was, not only sleep deprived, but mourning the loss of the man he'd seen. So this, mixed with the stress of withdrawal, resulted in him seeing things. Kaito drove into the nearest town and was set to work earning his keep and sleeping in his car.

Well, sleeping was just a blanket term, because existing was too generous. Kaito had become quite the insomniac since that incident, fearing that he'd see the man again just as soon as he closed his eyes. Just like Freddie Krueger, lurking in the back of his mind, ready to tear him apart. Kaito died once with that man, and he didn't intend to do it again.

So, he was back on the road again, heading south. He was jittery again, but this time well rested, though sober as well; he made a point only to use in the towns and never drive while high. And as the night sky rose over head he easily fell into the pattern of the roads. He didn't which exit to take, since he had nowhere to go, really. So he just took a random on and saw where it lead him.

Forests always tended to put him to sleep. And this took him through a thick one. The moon shone down only in silvery shafts through the thick leaves of the trees in full bloom. There was something hypnotic in the constant strobe of the trees and the moonlight. It was odd, Kaito reflected, how the trouble and conspiracies of the world all seemed to vanish at the edge of forests. He loved it.

Slowly, as he watched the blinking bars of light as they strobbed before him, he grew drowsy. They formed a beat, and then a song. The gentle melody of the moonlight and trees, accented by the melody of the car slowly lulled him to sleep. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep at the wheel, it was a common occurrence, in fact. One most likely brought on by his unusual sleep schedule. And here he was again, asleep.

"Watch the road!"

And he was awake again, wild with fear and the need that voice always incited in him. He swerved away from a tree and avoided an almost certainly-deadly crash. He looked to his right, where the voice had come from and for the moment that the beam of moonlight shone on the car he saw him again, but only for a moment as the light became stationary.

Kaito was wide awake for the rest of the night, needless to say, and a good portion of the day. There was nothing he could pass this off so easily. The hallucination he knew was just a byproduct of just waking up. The voice was not as easy to pass off. Had the voice been faint, then yes, he would have called it just another trick of the mind. But this was clear as a bell and sounded from just next to him. He found himself searching next to him and even on the side for the road for any sign of the man he'd seen.

Time passes and heals all wounds, so the saying goes. And time passed and healed the wound that was pricked open by the sight of his old lover. Kaito was, once again, in town and working. It had been a long night and he just wanted to get back to his motel and sleep. Unfortunately, the work he'd done was on the other side of the town, so his drive was fairly lengthy.

Finally he pulled into the parking lot and fell asleep instantly. It was another dreamless sleep. He almost didn't feel the strong hands that unbuckled his seat belt and lifted him out of the car and into the night. He remembered, vaguely, the rumble of a voice more felt then heard as he rested his head on a strong chest. Oh please, he thought, please don't let it be my father, but he guessed it was. The last thing he really needed was his father to, not only bail him out, but let him know how worthless he was.

He awoke, in his room, alone. He sat up and expected his family to arrive with food for themselves, but none for him. They would sit around the room and his father would rant on about how worthless he was, and how he was ashamed to have him as his son, and what a faggot he was, and what a freak he was. His mother would sit there and allow the abuse too. He sighed and watched the door. Nothing happened. For almost an hour nothing happened, and he as late for work.

Again time progressed and he had no more experiences with the hallucination. But with time, numbness wore off and he began to long for the touch once more. He found himself looking around his surroundings for the man he dreamt of and found himself heartbroken not to find him. He wouldn't sleep, and instead he sat in his car, waiting for the strong hands he knew to carry him inside. The strong hands he knew and loved, and thought about every second he wasn't touching them when they lived. The strong hands he missed and mourned, attached to the man who filled the whole in his heart, and then left it gaping and bleeding.

Would it have been so hard to just wait a few more years? Just a few more, then he would have come back to him, as fast as he could, and they would be together. Just a few more years of heart break for a life time of fulfillment. Instead, he chose a gun. And with his own life he tore Kaito to pieces at the same time. Kaito would never again feel those wonderful hands, strong and soft at the same time. He would never again hear the rumbling voice like the far off thunder lulling him to blissful sleep.

Time heals all wounds, they say. Kaito would beg to disagree. Time only pulled this wound further and further apart. The time he spent in love, and the time he spent missing him… and the time he spent mourning, and the time he spent forgetting. Time was the reason for his suffering. Time had killed his whole life. Time had ripped all Kaito knew and loved away from him.

They also say that time flies; and this was true. Between intoxication and work he had no time to reflect on anything. Not that he'd want to. All he really wanted was to keep his mind as occupied as possible. If time wouldn't heal the wounds, then Kaito would do all he could to either cauterize it with the friction of a fast paced life, or ignore it by taking every substance he could get his hands on.

It was this psychology that put him in his current predicament. It didn't take long living like that to run out of substances.

It was his third night with no drugs and he was in utter agony. He ached all over, but he couldn't keep still. Ants roamed around under his skin and as much as he tore at them he couldn't get them out. His flesh burned and perspired to such extremes he could not believe. He was losing more water than he was taking in and felt dizzy. He sobbed again in pain and ripped off his pants in an attempt to cool himself off. When that didn't work he shoved his window open.

The cool air caressed his skin softly and he felt a bit better. The sweat still fell in bullets, but his shaking had stopped. He crossed his arm across his chest to keep himself together, for fear of the wound tearing further and tearing him in two.

He slumped against the window sill, the curtains brushing his sides. He could hear the sounds of the high way. Between that and the cool ebb and flow of the breeze he found himself in a jittery sleep.

He noticed very little, at first, except for strong hands. The hands he longed for since the night he fell asleep in his car. The hands he looked for everywhere. They took him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. Groggily they guided him towards the bathroom as his head lolled against a shoulder. He could smell the cologne of cinnamon and musk. He smiled sleepily and murmured the name he hadn't in years. And the far off rumble of laughter rang into his ears.

Cold water ran as he was lowered into it. He flinched back up against the solid form, grabbing onto his shoulders. Another chuckle before he was slowly lowered into it again. That chuckle made him submit, just like it used to, to whatever the one who spoke it wanted. And his body melted and did whatever the hands wanted him to do.

Oh, Kaito reveled in the feeling of the hands running the cold water over his body, trying with deliberate calm to lower his body temperature. He reached for one of the hands and made sure it was real. It was as solid as could be possible as he pressed it against his face. Another chuckle as equally solid lips brushed his forehead. His hair was smoothed back, greasy from negligence, just like the rest of his body.

Kaito lingered somewhere between sleep and reality while he was cleaned. There was a washcloth, but a distasteful grunt from the angel's voice told Kaito, with some exhilaration, that it wouldn't be used. However, his exhilaration died when cloth his skin none the less. He cracked his eyes and noticed that his last clean shirt was being used to wash the grease and sweat from his body with the rank smelling soap provided by the motel.

Still, the angel elicited a few mewls from Kaito's lips, and Kaito's needy vocalizations earned him chuckling from above him. Kaito grew increasingly irritated at the innocent washing and pouted drowsily. He could recall times when he would be yanked into the shower by this man, only to emerge grubbier than before. So why then, was he being to chaste now?

The water was drained from the tub and the angel left for a moment. Kaito listen sleepily to the footsteps retreat into the bedroom. Kaito wondered vaguely where he was going, but dismissed it and dozed in the tub. He felt soothed, somehow, with his angel there. Like the withdrawal had been washed away with the dirt and cast into the winds.

A warm towel fell over him and brought him back to semi consciousness. He was gently dried off as he lay, uselessly, in the tub. He did regret not reaching up and demanding more love from his lover, but not enough to actually act on the urges. But, as if reading his thoughts, lips brushed his ear and whispered, "Wake up."

And he did. But he was in his boxers, lying against the window. He let his head fall forward and he ran his hands through his hair. It was greasy as it had ever been. It was a dream. It was all just a beautiful, wonderful dream. He groaned and checked his watch. He was late… crap. He hated being late. It put him in a rush. His head fell back and hit the wall with a silent thud.

He went about smelling clothes, seeing what was freshest. He combed back his greasy hair, which stuck in place like it had gel in it. He sighed and let it go. It was clean… once. He felt clean, utterly at peace. But no more. He sighed and slung his bag over his shoulder. It was time to get on the road again. It never crossed his mind that he should have been going though withdrawal still.

His windows were down and he was driving fast. Why, he did not know. He felt suddenly free, like a weight was lifted off of his chest. He didn't know where he was going or why, but he was going somewhere. He drove all through the night taking exits that popped out at him in a subliminal system. He never tired, and he never lost focus. It was like he was being driven by some unknown force towards something he couldn't see.

During the day he pulled into a motel. There he raced to an ATM and used the cash card his mother had given him for emergencies only. Out of the money he took enough for decent soap, deodorant, shampoo, shaving cream, a razor, tooth paste, a tooth brush, and a few cycles at the Laundromat attached to the gas station.

The first thing he did was he washed all of his clothes three times with twice as much soap as necessary. The toiletries had cost less than he expected, so a bag of chips and a sandwich was not out of the question. Next he fixed himself up and got into –blessedly- clean clothes. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be clean. And not just physically. But since that dream… he'd felt so anxious to get somewhere… anywhere. And he felt so emotionally recharged… like his angels kiss had shocked him back to life.

He was back on the road in less than 6 hours. He couldn't sleep. He was too excited to get wherever he was going. To excited to be somewhere. He didn't know where. Someone… or thing… had to though, why else would he be so excited? It wasn't until he rolled into town that he realized what he needed to do…

Which brings us back to reality. Kaito was walking through the cemetery with a small bouquet of flowers in his arms. He didn't think about where he was going… he just moved. Auto pilot brought him to a simple head stone. Ando Ren. His lover who killed himself a short while after he left the town by force of his father.

He'd never forget the shattering heartache he felt when he heard the news. He'd never forget the scream that elicited from the very bowels of his being. How every fiber ached for it to be a lie. How the tears came in lava-hot rivulets down his face for weeks afterwards. There were something that time did not heal… and the heart ache was one of them.

Perhaps Kaito would never heal totally from the shattering loss of his lover. But it was up to him to be better. From his pocket he pulled his cell phone and dialed up Taka. As it rang he both prayed that his number was the same and placed the flowers at the tomb stone.

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-Fin-

So that wasn't exactly how I wanted it to end. I had this whole fluffy "I LIVE" ending planned, but then I was like "oh for fucks sake" and scrapped it. I also had plans for an multi-chapter fic about the dreams becoming more real, and sexy, but this was just better. So, I'm not toally happy with it, but it'll do.

R&R enough and I'll give you some Ren!Kaito smexxy time!

This fic was brought to you by your local Kaci Colton


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